


The Fray of Regret

by OTL_potato



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Despair, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Final Fantasy XIV: Heavensward, Final Fantasy XIV: Heavensward Spoilers, Grief/Mourning, Hope you like to hurt cause I do, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-19
Updated: 2020-06-19
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:41:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24808687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OTL_potato/pseuds/OTL_potato
Summary: The Warrior of Light still donning the mantle of the Dark Knight cannot shake the death of their beloved companion, Haurchefaunt. And the darkness whispers to them in the depths of their greatest regret.
Relationships: Haurchefant Greystone & Warrior of Light, Haurchefant Greystone/Warrior of Light
Comments: 3
Kudos: 34





	The Fray of Regret

**Author's Note:**

> This was heavily inspired by fanart by [AthenaWX on Twitter](https://twitter.com/AthenaWX/status/1158429977471148032)  
> Also tried my besty to make a neutral WoL so anyone can enjoy it (though my WoL is female)

A meal at the Forgotten Knight had become a staple of the Warrior’s stay in Ishgard, especially after meeting Sidurgu and Rielle. The three of them would sit in the corner away from the other patrons of the tavern, enjoying the warm soup of the evening or maybe a pint or glass. Even after the chaos of the internal raid on the city, the assault on the Vault, and then the upheaval with the absence of the Archbishop, they had promised to return to the duo when they could to establish some sense of normalcy- whatever that was anymore.

But that day was not a good day. Their body ached from being thrown about the island and Bismark’s back, and the cold metal of their plate felt heavier than normal on healing bruises and mending bones. Those pains were mute compared to the pain in their heart that the Archbishop and the Heavens’ Ward escaped them. This left the group, once again, several steps behind, attempting to makeshift a way to catch up and halt their plans. 

“Wh-what about some more stories of the Sea of Clouds?” Rielle perked up behind her mug of hot cocoa, “Is it much like Moghome? Just rocks floating in the air?”

Sidurgu groans at the reminder of their most recent adventure with the Moogle tribe. “Blasted furry idiots…”

The young lady reached over to nudge her protective knight with her elbow. “You’re just upset because the tune they played is still stuck in your head.”

“It is not!” the knight proclaimed with restricted rage as he chomped down on a length of bread to cover his embarrassment.

Rielle cast her eyes back to their companion, but it was evident that they were too lost in their own thoughts to pay attention to the two, and instead staring down at the mug of cocoa in front.

The warmth of it between their hands, and the smell of its sweetness left a bitter pain in their heart. Haurchefant had always come bearing a fresh cup whenever they visited for any reason, be it mission or even just quiet times between the two of them. They could still remember how he’d greet them from the cold with a warm blanket beside a stoaked fire in his office, and eventually the quiet chambers within the Fortemps estate. Always asking of the adventures that were had, where they had been last, what the people were like, what great deeds they had done on behalf of those people. Except the last time when they had returned from the Aery…

While his father, Sir Aymeric, Estinien, and Alphinaud discussed what had been learned about the Dragon Song War, the young knight had whisked their esteemed Warrior of Light away out of sight from the discussions. They had thought it wishing to apologize for the lack of usual beverages, but instead Haurchefant took them into his arms and enveloped them into a strong embrace. They could remember the way he trembled with his face hidden in their hair. _“I was worried I’d never see you again…”_

“-are you alright?”

Rielle’s voice pulled her back to the present, and their companion stared across the table at the younger girl with mouth agape. Both hands gripped tightly into the mug, venting the frustration and the burning sensation that gathered behind their eyes. Eventually it subsided, and they swallowed the emotions to empty out. “... just tired,” was their only reply.

Sidurgu was not so easily swayed by those words, and the large Au Ra crossed his arms over his chest. “Turbulent times. And you have been in the center of it.”

“... yes… I guess you could say that…”

He let his tightened posture slacken and cast a gaze of concern across the table. The weight on their shoulders appeared so heavy- which was to be expected for one vaulted as the Warrior of Light- but still he could not let it be. “- you should be weary of such heavy emotions. The darkness we carry within us can be a vicious mistress, and consume us if we are not careful. You had seen it with that illusion of Fray you carried with you-”

“I know.” Their reply was curt, the bite stronger than intended. The rage that trickled through their body caused them to cling to the mug so tightly it almost shattered in their hands. Realizing their folly, they released the drink and shifted the bastard sword back onto their back. The knight was careful to avoid making eye contact with the two of them as they adjusted the weapon, and turned towards the stairs. “Thank you for the drink, food, and company. I… apologize for my quiet tonight. I am… tired.”

Rielle attempted to take a step forward towards their companion, but Sidurgu was quick to extend an arm and hold her back. “Can we still count on you for the Trial when the time comes?” he reminded them with a stern, but an odd sort of comfort to his words. 

“Don’t worry… I’ll be there.”

The words felt empty to their lips as they left the Forgotten Knight. It was just another missive to save another lost soul in this chaotic world. Another life settled on the Warrior's shoulders. They’d most likely take the lives of others to save that one small light. How often they had cleaned blood from both blade and armor, and almost thought it more effective to let it stain red much like Estinien had. 

_“A knight lives to serve- to aid those in need.”_

Those words that had been dancing around their head for such a long time. As they marched their way rather aimlessly through Ishgard and out the main gate, there were many thoughts that regardless of what they did, there was no shaking them. The sound of Haurchefant’s laugh, the way he’d make jokes and then snicker to himself before the punchline was delivered, the confidence in his voice when a new idea came to mind, or even how he’d welcome their return from battle. It had been awkward at first from how starstruck he was at the arrival of the ‘hope incarnate’, and sometimes conversations were uncomfortable. But those precious moments of bonding were like water to a little seedling that overtime grew, and grew, and flowered. They lingered on the thoughts of the two of them wrapped beneath blankets together by the fire, or the way his uneven icy blue hair always seemed to be in the way when he pulled himself close. His passion was as limitless as his conviction and hope for a brighter future. 

“...- the bastard is trying to make a mockery of our history, of our war.”  
“Standing beside _heretics_ ? And now he's in control? What is he, a king?”  
“Not only that, full of hopeless ambition. What peace can they hope for us to have with these dravanian _mongrels.._ ”

The conversation on the long bridge had caught the Warrior off guard, but the rage in their voices were hard to ignore. The two knights standing in patrol either did not notice their presence, or paid the passing stranger no mind as they continued to bicker amongst themselves.

“I’m not sure if I should frown upon the Archbishop’s choice in giving the Temple Knights to his own bastard son, or feel pity for the bastard being lifted into a position he was not worthy to receive.”  
“At least we can say that Dragonhead will be run by a true noble heir of the Four Houses- though not sure if we should leave that choice up to Fortemps any longer.”  
“That old fool had always had a soft spot for breaking tradition. Look at his youngest- being lifted up as a knight on a resume of swinging his cock round more than his sword.”  
“And the Dravanian deserve nothing less than to have their heads on pikes. After so many of our brethren were consumed by their flames…”  
“Agreed, hopefully the Archbishop will return soon and bring this country back on the right track.”

‘ _How dare they,_ ’ they thought as they stood across the bridge from the complaining knightley duo, ‘ _How dare they make a mockery of all that we had fought for to spare them, of all that we did to set the path right. To bemoan keeping the status quo after all that was lost, after all that_ **_we_ ** _lost…_ ’

“ **_After all I gave up for them_ **.”

The internal voice in their mind was no longer their own. There was a pulse they felt from the core; a sort of familiar ache that was spurred by the darkness they wielded. It had been some time since they had felt it so strongly, back when they were still dancing with the illusion of Fray. But this was neither Fray’s voice, nor their own voice.

When the knight turned to identify the voice behind them, their eyes widened in shock. The garb was familiar to them: that black and gold fending armor that was worn by Fray in his final days. But even with the mask amiss, this was neither Fray, nor a duplicate of themselves either. He stood there with that same air of proud confidence, but his smile as dark as his grey flesh.

“... Haurchefant?” they asked, though their voice no louder than a whisper.

His smile pulled further up his cheeks as he stepped closer to approach them, hands extended much like they did when he greeted their arrival to Dragonhead. “My friend,” he chimed rather happily, though the tone still sounded sour in some way to the Warrior’s ears, “You have carried so much for these people, even without request or payment. You still carry the weight of this entire nation on your shoulders.” 

The slightly tainted smile faded from his face as he extended his arm back down the long path of the bridge to the city. “They restricted you from their gates when you were in need of a safe home, they fought your presence as an outsider though you saved their people from harm. Regardless of how much you fought for them, how much you _bled_ for them, they are not sated.” Rage seemed to boil behind his eyes in a way that they had never seen them. A man normally full of such hope and joy instead radiated a kind of anger that was so familiar to the pain in her heart, but not to him. “You’ve saved their loved ones, their kin from this never-ending war, and yet they are not satisfied? They still spit on your struggles? On your loss?” He placed his hand over his heart and his eyes grew sorrowful as he gripped the front of his breastplate. “ **On our loss?** ”

Before they could counter, Haurchefant gripped them by the shoulders and spun them to face the two guards still having idle conversation. They did not know when the broadsword ended up in their right hand, but could easily feel the power pulsing through it. It traveled from their shoulders into gauntleted hands, and their wrists flexed with the urge to bring it to the front and raise it.

“They’ll never understand our loss…” he whispered into their ear as his gauntleted hand lifted from their shoulder to instead cup the side of their face. It was the same way he held it when the weight of the world grew heavy on them, and the hopelessness that they could not do what was asked of for everyone. There was a warmth in that touch they desired so greatly in the moment that they did not realize the darkness swelling there as well. The warrior’s eye between his parted fingers swelled with power and began to glow a dark, blood red. “If they cannot be thankful for your work- or at least sympathetic for all that this cause has taken from you… they are not worthy to see the glory of your- of _our_ efforts…”

Their arms were shaking as they lifted the heavy blade with both hands. They could feel Haurchefant guiding the butt of the blade with his other hand, while helping lift the weight of the deadly instrument. Their heart was racing, lungs heaving as they balanced the urge to take the heads off these two ungrateful knights. Haurchefant’s hands were so calm and still while every bit of their form shook as they stared down the blade. “Don’t hesitate…”

The final whisper spurred them to action, but not in the desired way that the shadow of Haurchefant had wanted. Their heart wretched thinking of those words, as they had hesitated that day before Thordan VII and his knights. But Haurchefant had not. He came quickly to their defense with his shield raised, doing what he always wanted to do since he was a young boy: aid those in need as a noble knight.

They shook away the urge to kill and swung the sword into its holster on their back. Before the knights could realize the scene they pulled her fists to their side and bolted down the length of the bridge. The cold air was hard on their panting lungs, but they ignored the pain. All of the bruises, the aching bones, the racing heart- they ignored it all as they pulled away from the screaming shadow and the two knights turning confused to the heavily clad dark knight as they burst down the bridge.

As they reached the snowy outside their feet felt heavy. Regardless of all the pain and emotional fatigue, they wanted to be by themselves. Away from all those clamouring for aid, or enveloping them in a sea of support; all they wanted was the quiet to handle this alone. When they reached a more secluded clearing, they let their form crash against a nearby tree and allow the weight to collapse until they were settled in the snow on their knees. The never-ending cold had become all too familiar after all this time, and it gave them an odd sort of comfort.

“It’s not like you to run away,” the disappointed, yet almost concerned tone of Haurchefant whispered. Slowly they opened their eyes to see armour-clad feet in the snow, before the familiar face of the knight came to level with them. He extended a hand gingerly to the warrior’s face, and once again cupped it in a way they never thought they’d feel again. Their head leaned into the touch as the burning returned to the back of their eyes, and their lungs choked back the seemingly never-ending urge to just wail.

Yet they knew it to be a lie. Their gauntleted hand lifted and swung firmly enough to strike away his hand and his touch. “How dare you take his face!” they demanded and finally turned to face him again. The anger boiled inside and they ground their teeth to the point it added new pain to their body. “How dare you try to use him- to use his _death_ to spurr me to murder! I thought we had our agreement Fray- Anguish- Esteem- whatever you are! This is my body, this is my story, this is _my life_ and I will do as I please with it, I will not be goaded by your ill intent!!”

Though the words they spit were full of vitriol and hate, Haurchefant did not budge. His face, though eyes twisted in sorrow, had that serene smile he was so well known for. Again his hand reached for them, even though they lifted their own to strike it back, he did not hesitate. It touched their face once more and lifted it to ease the meeting of their eyes. “You’re mistaken. I am not Esteem…” His lips flexed nervously in his smile, and his eyes- though darkened by the foul shadowy magic- seemed to gloss over with signs of tears. “... I am Regret..”

In an instance they were taken aback by the obviousness of his statement. Their mouth already dry opened in the shocking realization, much like they had that day in Whitebrim Front, that these were the thoughts their darkness conjured: the ones they wished to ignore to just carry on. 

“After all those we had already lost, after all those that we could not protect, to believe in the end you still failed him. Someone so precious to you- who dedicated his all to you. From odd fellows, to friends, to companions, to even love…” A tear escaped down from one of his eyes, and then another along the other cheek. The warrior hadn’t realized they too had been crying until seeing his tears. “To be able to do nothing for someone you cared so deeply for, who only wanted you-”

“Don’t say it-” they demanded in a hoarse tone.

Haurchefant whispered as he used his thumb to wipe away one of their tears, “... who wanted even in his last breath-”

“I said don’t say it!”

“... to see you smile.”

The words alone crushed them. The pain in their chest was overwhelming and their body curled in front of him until their head was against his breastplate. Even though this figure was only a shadowy illusion of the man they respected and loved so much, they could still feel his familiar warmth. The shadowy knight’s fingers brushed through their hair as they choked to breath through the mucus and tears. Though they wanted to grip him tight and hold him close as they did so many times long ago, their hands remained firm in their lap. 

“I’ve lost so many…” the warrior whimpered against his breastplate as they held their eyes firmly shut and simply shuddered in his embrace. “... why did you…. Why did he have to… How can I… I’m so lost… I hurt so much...”

Haurchefant hushed their choking sobs and laid a small kiss on the top of their head. “... mourning is just love that has nowhere to go…”

The desire to embrace him was overwhelming. Their arms reached up and they lifted their head, but the illusion was already gone. There was no trace of his footsteps or even knee prints in the snow. It was only them out in the cold wilderness, alone with tears burning against their face. They clung their fingers into a fist and slammed them into snow and against the ground. Tears ran freely down their face as they stared into the whiteness with the wound of loss so freshly open again. They were so distracted by that aching heart that they did not hear Alphinaud’s calls.

“-there you are! I’ve been looking all over for you,” he called out as he galloped through the heavy snow banks. “The guard’s said they spotted you heading this way. We need-” It was in that moment the young boy noticed the stature of his Warrior of Light. Though their back was to him, he could still tell by the sudden shudders that something was amiss. “... are you alright?”

They dug fingers into the soil beneath the snow, letting the tears fall from their face. It took them but a moment to steady their breathing, adjust their legs, and pull them back upright. There wasn’t much fabric on their hands that could be used to wipe away the tears, but they did the best they could. “No-” they choked out rather honestly and stared up to the sky. It was oddly enough a very clear day, the blue looked rather stunning against the snow capped mountains. “... but now is not the time…”

“Are you quite su-”

“Yes,” they were quick to reply with a curt nod before turning to face him. 

Alphinaud’s expression was uneasy, but he summoned back the excitement he held moments before. “Master Garlond may have found a solution to our problem with the shield, and wanted our input."

The warrior did not reply verbally, but instead gave another quick nod before following the younger male. There was an urge to look back to that place in the snow where the shadowed Haurchefant had kneeled at one point, but knew best to hold that at bay. When all was said and done, and this country was finally free of the peril of its old ways and the Archbishop, maybe then, they could mourn. And maybe then, they could smile again the way he always liked.


End file.
